


Death and His Half-Brothers Sleep

by GretchenSinister



Series: My Top 20 Short Gen Fics [16]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "From the RotG art book, on the development of Pitch’s appearance: “The designer even toyed with the idea of Pitch and Jack being brothers.”Absolutely anything that explored that idea would be brilliant!"Instead of being a boy who drowned in a lake, Jack is also Death himself. When he’s called to be a Guardian, he keeps this to himself, even after the first time he refuses to do his duty, to save one of his half-brothers (or rather, one half of his brother).





	Death and His Half-Brothers Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 2/15/2016.

Jack remembers the time before he was Jack, when he didn’t have a name but everyone knew him, before anyone had learned to laugh at his coming, before he had learned to love winter as his own season, before he had learned to love both laughter and the season for their brevity, before he had become a  _self_  that was different from what he had been made for, before he understood that this  _self_  could be used to protect joy while it lasted. He remembers gasping for his first breath, and turning to see one beside him, a being like himself, but with closed eyes.  
  
And at first he thought they were  _his_ , though he did not know yet what that meant, and then he saw their chest move, and knew they were not  _his_.   
  
When they opened their eyes, Jack had known that they would never be  _his_ , but that they were something else. They were his brother.  
  
Their skin shone gold at times, and silver at others, depending more on their whims than the light. They were a little shorter than Jack, with softer features and more flesh on their frame. They smiled easily, though they didn’t grin quite like Jack. They helped make him more gentle, in those early years, meeting him often when it was very cold, or in sickrooms, or by cradles where Jack was never sure why he had been called, but he went all the same.   
  
He remembers his brother telling him their name, in a quiet, quiet voice.  _Sleep_.  
  
When they started to develop  _selves_ , and grew quicker at their work, Jack—though that was not the name he was known by, then—and Sleep encountered each other less often. Jack came to do his work after Sleep had done theirs, usually. Jack missed them, but he was busy, and so he knew Sleep must be busier yet. He told himself he didn’t mind. He’d never be called to Sleep, but that meant they could always meet again.   
  
Jack hadn’t realized how much they might change, in their time apart.   
  
When he next saw someone that he thought was his brother, others called them Sandy. But Sandy was a he, and he was much shorter than Sleep had been, and much rounder. He was all golden, and he didn’t have a voice. And he did not seem to recognize Jack as someone other than Jack.  
  
It was all wrong. But he could not shake the feeling that this was Sleep, somehow.  
  
When he next saw someone that reminded him of his brother, he called himself the Boogeyman. He was much taller than Sleep had been, and much thinner, and all silver-gray. His voice was much louder than Sleep’s. He didn’t recognize Jack either. But when he and Sandy were in the same space, Jack felt as though all of Sleep was there.   
  
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to explain. He was being called upon to be a Guardian, now, and what would the others think of the old purpose and duty he still fulfilled? Would they be able to understand, when they did not even know how Sleep should be?  
  
He didn’t know where to begin, and so he did nothing but follow part of Sleep to face the other.   
  
And when he was called for half his brother because of the arrow of the other half, there was no one to understand how deeply he had been pierced, too.   
  
Jack remembers all this, and remembers it well, his first rebellion. The first time he did not come when called. Whatever governs him let him refuse, but his duties were not taken away. The change was simple. For every call, now, he has to make a choice. He knows that for the sake of the world and all its rhythms and cycles, he should always answer. And usually he does. But with all these choices, he is all too glad to also have the duty to protect joy.   
  
He is glad, too, to have two half-brothers still. He has hopes for them. After all, one of them seems to recognize him enough to mock him with a scythe. 


End file.
